


Bottled Chamomile

by Shinybug



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Sleep Deprivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:21:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23366863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinybug/pseuds/Shinybug
Summary: AU during 1x05 Bottled Appetites.Geralt never finds the djinn's bottle, but Jaskier makes him an enticing proposition to help him sleep.***Jaskier looked at him, his blue eyes clear and bright. The late afternoon sun filtered through the trees and caught the edges of his dark hair, turning them gold. Geralt realized then that this was a terrible idea, and he was going through with it anyway.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 64
Kudos: 988





	Bottled Chamomile

“C’mon, be honest--how’s my singing?”

Geralt gathered up and then cast his net once more in a practiced arc. “It’s like ordering a pie and finding it has no filling.” He reached down to grab the line but couldn’t find it; it had gone with the rest of the net into the water. He growled, nearly missing Jaskier’s outraged sputtering.

“Oh! You need a nap!” Jaskier cried, righteously affronted.

Geralt searched around in the marshy grass at the water’s edge, but the line was truly gone. “Fuck,” he muttered, shaking the mud from his hands, then registered what Jaskier had said. “Yes, of course I need a fucking nap, weren’t you listening to me?”

“I mean, are you trying to hurt my feelings, Geralt? It’s downright indecorous of you, and if I’m completely honest, I thought such low insults beneath you, you--you--horse’s arse!”

“That’s rich,” Geralt replied, staring out at the lake as though the djinn’s bottle would rise to the surface just because he wished it.

“Yes, well, I realize the irony of what I just said, but you know how to bring me to speechlessness like no one else I’ve met, Geralt.” Jaskier seemed to be winding down, his voice dropping to his natural register.

Geralt grunted. “If this is speechlessness then I’d hate to hear what you sound like when you’re chatty.”

Jaskier glared at him, hands on hips. “I reiterate what I said before, you need a nap. So tell me, what tricks have you tried?”

“Tricks?” He marched back along the path from the water’s edge to where he’d left his pack, and he could hear Jaskier crashing through the underbrush behind him.

“Yes, tricks to help you sleep. Have you tried a sleeping draught?”

“Yes.” Geralt wiped his hands off on a spare cloth from his pack, a feeling of hopeless irritation creeping over him.

“Meditation?”

“Yes.”

“An actual bed, as opposed to the hard ground next to a campfire?”

“Yes.”

Jaskier sighed. “Well, have you tried asking a friend for help?”

“I don’t have any friends.” He closed his pack and buckled it, preparing to sling it over his shoulder.

“Don’t have any--I say, Geralt, that’s a depressing thought, and an erroneous one too, because you know you have me. At the very least. Honestly.” 

Jaskier sounded dumbfounded, and Geralt finally paused. “We’re not--”

“Not friends, yes I know, you’ve said that many times now. But you know in your heart it isn’t true, no matter how many insults you sling at me.”

Geralt just sighed and closed his eyes, too tired to rise to the bait. He picked up his pack.

“Well, I’m still invested in your well-being, whatever you may think. Have you tried a good hard fucking?”

Geralt dropped his pack. Jaskier was standing so close, the tips of his ears red. Geralt opened his mouth and then closed it again.

“I’ll take that as a no, then,” Jaskier said, looking almost smug.

“How would that possibly help?” Geralt leveled a flat stare at him. “I wouldn’t want to sleep in a whore’s bed.”

“Geralt, I wasn’t suggesting you visit a whore.” Jaskier’s look was a match for his. He was obviously waiting for Geralt to make some kind of connection.

Geralt raised his eyebrows. “You’re suggesting I fuck you?”

Jaskier shrugged. “I mean, I’m here, and I’m...offering to help.” His cheeks were definitely pink but his gaze was steady.

Geralt turned fully to face him. Jaskier didn’t move, didn’t back down. “Why would you do that for me?”

It was Jaskier’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “Seriously? Geralt, I am, as previously established, your friend, and friends help each other in times of need. Besides that, have you seen yourself? It wouldn’t exactly be a hardship for me. Far from it.”

It wasn’t as though Geralt had never thought about it. For all Jaskier’s conquests that he’d witnessed first hand, it would have been impossible not to imagine what Jaskier looked like flushed with pleasure, whether he was a different kind of lover with men than he was with women. If he was just as talkative in bed as he was out of it, or if desire made him mute.

So yes, Geralt had imagined. But it had always been in a detached sort of way, an idle wondering in moments of calm, watching him from across a campfire or riding while Jaskier walked beside him, humming.

But he’d be a liar if he said he hadn’t also wanted to find out for himself.

He took a step forward, coming within reach of Jaskier, who lifted his chin in challenge and took his hand.

“What say you?” Jaskier asked softly, enticingly. “Shall we try?”

Jaskier’s hand was slimmer than his own, with callouses on his fingertips from strumming his lute for years. He held Geralt’s firmly, his thumb stroking gently over Geralt’s knuckles. The sensation radiated surprisingly through Geralt’s arm, and Geralt was startled to realize that no one had touched him in a very long time.

Geralt came closer, chasing the scent of sweet wine and chamomile that always surrounded Jaskier. It was a familiar scent, a comforting one, if he was honest with himself. It wasn’t the foreign scent of a whore, pleasing though it might be, which he would have to acclimate to hurriedly if he was to take his pleasure without being overwhelmed. Jaskier smelled of companionship. Of friendship.

He tilted his head, observing the quickened pulse in Jaskier's neck, the rise and fall of his chest with hair peeking through the open neckline of his shirt. Geralt had always wondered if it would be soft or wiry.

Jaskier seemed to take his head tilt as an invitation for a kiss, and he leaned in to brush Geralt’s mouth with his own. Geralt’s eyes fluttered closed at the sudden rush of pleasure that hit him like a wave, an extreme reaction for something as simple as a chaste kiss. He touched Jaskier’s shoulder tentatively and his thumb dipped into the hollow below his collarbone, and Jaskier made a pleased sound.

“See, it’s as easy as that.” Jaskier smiled softly and squeezed his hand. “Take me to your camp.”

Geralt took a deep breath and then picked up his pack. He released Jaskier’s hand and his own was immediately cold. Jaskier grabbed his own bag and lute where he’d placed them next to Geralt’s and gave him an encouraging grin. Geralt led the way through the woods to where Roach was waiting in a clearing next to a fallen log and a campfire that was just waiting to be ignited. His bedroll was already laid out, and he noticed Jaskier eyeing it with an interested look.

That didn’t feel right, though, so Geralt turned and caught Jaskier by the arm, stopping him as he meant to go straight to the bedroll. “Can I--”

Jaskier looked at him, his blue eyes clear and bright. The late afternoon sun filtered through the trees and caught the edges of his dark hair, turning them gold. Geralt realized then that this was a terrible idea, and he was going through with it anyway.

He ducked his head and kissed Jaskier softly, exploring his mouth like an unknown landscape that might hold dangers. All he found there was pliant lips and a slick tongue, a simple pleasure that Geralt craved as much as he craved true rest. Jaskier lifted his hand to touch Geralt’s cheek, to press his thumb to the hinge of his jaw.

Geralt pulled him closer and wasn’t as gentle this time, testing a boundary. Jaskier met him halfway, winding an arm around his neck and hanging on as Geralt tugged on his hips, pressing his erection against Jaskier’s belly and watching for any hint of regret or misgiving. He felt Jaskier’s pressing right beside his and growled low in his throat.

“Do that again,” Jaskier said, letting his head fall back with a rapturous look on his face.

“Do what?” Geralt asked, trying to think beyond the feel of Jaskier hard against him.

“Ah, never mind, I’ll endeavor to make you repeat it on your own,” he replied breathlessly.

Geralt kissed along his jaw and scraped his teeth along the lobe of his ear, pleased at Jaskier’s moan. He let his fingers explore the bit of skin revealed by his shirt’s open neckline, and the hair there was soft as he had hoped. He realized that he had actually formed expectations of what Jaskier would be like, not just idle wonderings, and he paused for a moment.

Jaskier noticed the pause and pulled back. “Second thoughts? Or would you rather take a room in town and continue this there in greater comfort?”

Geralt looked at Jaskier’s earnest face, his obvious desire, his completely trusting stance, and shook his head. “I don’t want to wait that long.”

With a blinding grin Jaskier let out a held breath. “Good, that’s good, Geralt. Let me help you.”

Geralt nodded. “Alright. We’ll try it your way.”

His way meant walking Geralt backward until his back hit a nearby tree, pressing him tight against it and kissing him hard enough to shake Geralt’s understanding of the world. He could barely do more than grip Jaskier’s hips, trying to keep up. Jaskier kissed down his neck, sucking little sharp marks into the skin and making Geralt hiss.

“More,” Geralt said softly, and Jaskier ran his tongue along the thick silver chain around his neck, and Geralt’s cock pulsed in his breeches. Jaskier gasped suddenly and Geralt thought he could hear a smile in the sound, and he realized that Jaskier could feel everything, pressed up as close as he was. He bit Geralt’s collarbone and scraped his blunt fingernails down Geralt’s chest and torso. He tugged on the buttons of Geralt’s shirt until he realized they didn’t go all the way down, and then he just pulled it up out of his breeches and over his head while Geralt stood quiescent.

“There,” Jaskier breathed, running his fingers over Geralt’s nipples and eyeing Geralt’s chest like he was viewing a banquet. “Gods, you’re lovely.”

Geralt didn’t know quite how to respond to that, as he’d never heard that said about himself before, so he just hummed and pulled Jaskier up for another kiss. Jaskier seemed more than happy to comply, sinking into his arms and moving until he had one of Geralt’s thighs between his own. He rocked forward and moaned.

“Geralt, I know you’re a naturally taciturn fellow, but I need to know if this is what you want, if this is helping you. It’s definitely doing it for me, but this is about you.” He was panting slightly, and his thighs were tight on Geralt’s, and he was absolutely beautiful and exactly what Geralt needed.

“Yeah,” Geralt admitted. “This.”

Jaskier closed his eyes and sighed. “Good. Will you fuck me, then?”

Geralt growled, startled and aroused, and Jaskier said, “There it is,” and Geralt kissed him, fast and hard, probably too rough, but Jaskier just wrapped his arms around Geralt’s neck and opened his mouth for the assault.

“Please, I need you,” Jaskier moaned, riding Geralt’s thigh, and Jaskier’s soft breeches hid absolutely nothing of his arousal.

Geralt started to back him up toward the bedroll, but Jaskier pushed against his chest. “No, right here. Against this tree.”

“That’s...not going to be comfortable for you,” he said after a moment of imagining it, a moment in which he decided he wanted that more than anything, but also that it would be too awkward for Jaskier.

“I don’t give a toss about comfort right now, Geralt, I just need you to fuck me against this tree.”

Geralt decided not to argue with him, since Jaskier had always been a man who knew his own mind. He nodded, and Jaskier said, “Stay,” and left to pick up his fallen pack while Geralt bristled at the order. Once Jaskier had found the blue glass bottle he’d been searching for he dropped the bag at his feet and returned to Geralt, pressing the stoppered bottle into his hand.

“Feel free to use it all,” he said with a cheeky grin, and shrugged off his silk doublet. It was a sign of how aroused he was that he simply tossed it to the side onto a bush. He stripped off his shirt and Geralt stood there staring, probably looking like he’d been hit in the head. Boots and breeches were similarly tossed to the bush, and then he was naked as the day he’d been born, standing before Geralt in the middle of a clearing with the setting sun glowing on his skin, and Geralt felt a burning in his chest that he couldn’t identify.

Jaskier stepped up close again, completely at ease in his own skin, and he hummed as he rubbed up against Geralt like a cat. Geralt stood still as a statue while Jaskier unbuttoned his breeches and pulled him out, hard and blush-red, leaking already.

“Oof,” Jaskier said, with eyes wide, “definitely use it all.”

Geralt didn’t know what to say.

Jaskier knelt carefully on the forest floor before him. “Before this is all covered in oil I want a taste. Is that alright?”

Geralt swallowed hard and nodded, still clutching the bottle uselessly. Jaskier’s mouth was hot and slick around his cock and he seemed to take great pleasure in sucking him in as far as he could and fisting the rest, moaning and closing his eyes as he moved slowly, unhurriedly. Geralt bit his lip and watched in awe, wondering if he had actually fallen asleep by the water’s edge and slipped into a strange dream.

He could have gone on like that for hours, lulled into pleasure he didn’t want to leave, but he also knew that he wouldn’t last much longer if this went on. He said, “Please,” and touched Jaskier’s hand where it was wrapped around his cock, and Jaskier looked up at him with glazed eyes. Geralt’s cock pulsed once and Jaskier moaned, pulling off to lick at the tip.

“Stand up,” Geralt said, and Jaskier immediately obeyed. His knees had dirt and bits of leaves on them. His mouth was red and wet, and Geralt kissed him because to do anything else would have been unthinkable.

“Here, switch with me,” Jaskier said gently, moving him to stand where he himself had been, and turning his back to Geralt. He bent over and braced his hands on the tree trunk between the ivy vines snaking their way upwards, and Geralt took a moment to appreciate the picture before him. He ran his hand over Jaskier’s hip and down one rounded cheek, noting how Jaskier’s muscles quivered.

“Will you take me like this?” Jaskier asked in a hushed voice, and he sounded unsure for the first time. Geralt supposed that this was something for himself as much as it was for Geralt.

The scent of chamomile oil rose from the bottle when he opened it, and he took a deep, calming breath. He poured some into his hand and carefully set the bottle on the ground, then trailed his fingers down between Jaskier’s cheeks, dripping oil across his hole. Jaskier twitched and let out a breath, and his fingers flexed on the tree trunk when Geralt slipped the first finger in.

“You can go faster than that,” Jaskier assured him, “and I’m going to need you to use all four of those fingers before you’re done.”

Geralt looked down at his cock and then at Jaskier’s tight hole and silently agreed.

“Talk to me, please,” Jaskier said in a whisper, moving slowly against Geralt’s fingers.

“What do you want me to say?”

“Just...tell me what you’re thinking. What you’re feeling. If you can.”

Geralt was silent for a while, thinking about it. Words didn’t come easily for him at the best of times. “I’m thinking...I can’t believe you’re here. That you’re real. I’m worried that I’m asleep and dreaming.”

“Wouldn’t that be good?” Jaskier’s voice was strained and he was starting to move faster on Geralt’s fingers, seeking pleasure. “That would mean you had finally found your elusive sleep.”

“That would mean you aren’t here.”

Jaskier’s back arched and he moaned, whether in pleasure or because of what Geralt had said, it wasn’t clear and Geralt did not ask.

“Now. Now, Geralt. Right now.”

So Geralt pulled out his fingers and retrieved the bottle from the ground, tipping out half the contents onto his palm and slicking his cock until it dripped. The first press into his hole was tight, but Jaskier took a deep breath and relaxed, and the stretching they had done was enough to ease the way considerably. Geralt pushed as slowly as he could stand, listening to Jaskier’s heaving breaths for sounds of pain.

“You’re exquisite,” Jaskier breathed, dropping his head between his outstretched arms.

Geralt felt his face flushing, something that hadn’t happened in longer than he could remember, if ever. He was used to the empty platitudes of the well-meaning whores he visited, but this confession was heartfelt and honest.

When he was seated all the way in, Jaskier made a keening sound and Geralt froze in apprehension, but Jaskier braced himself and pushed back, trembling.

“Gods, yes. Geralt, please move, please.”

The way that Jaskier said his name lit a fire under him, and he pulled back only to shove forward again into a channel so slick and tight he felt his control slipping already, even though they had just begun. Jaskier braced his hands on the tree trunk a little better and moved back against him, coaxing him into a rhythm.

He wanted to be as vocal as Jaskier was, babbling half-formed words and low sounds of pleasure, but that just wasn’t his way. He thought for Jaskier’s sake that he should try, so he closed his eyes and said, “This is perfect. You’re perfect.”

Jaskier moaned and trembled, fluttering around his cock and dragging a groan from Geralt. He stroked one oil slippery hand soothingly over Jaskier’s lower back and gripped his hip with the other, pulling gently, holding him there.

“You can go harder, if you need to. Be rougher. I can take it.” Jaskier’s voice was a husky thing that Geralt wasn’t used to. In all the years of knowing him, Jaskier’s voice had never sounded anything less than dulcet.

Geralt frowned. “I don’t want you to take it, I want you to want it.”

Jaskier shifted his hands again. “I...this is about you, Geralt.”

“No. I don’t want it if you don’t.” Geralt slowed to a stop, drawing a displeased sound out of Jaskier. “What do you want?”

“This. Just this. Just you.”

It was such a simple answer that Geralt believed it completely. He started moving again and Jaskier sighed. He rubbed his thumb along Jaskier’s rim where it was stretched so beautifully around his cock and marveled at his good fortune to have found someone like Jaskier who was so willing to give so much of himself.

Geralt quickened his pace but not his force, leaving Jaskier wanting rather than giving him too much, and Jaskier’s cries got louder. He called Geralt’s name and his legs trembled, and Geralt felt the brightness burning him from the inside grow to a fever’s pitch. He reached around to grasp Jaskier’s cock but the angle was all wrong.

“It’s alright, I don’t need it--I’m going to--Geralt,” he cried, and then he was clenching around Geralt’s cock so sweetly and Geralt was helpless to resist that call. He pulled out and spurted across Jaskier’s ass, milky fluid against golden skin, grunting softly, his eyes falling shut against his will as he let the pleasure wash over him.

“Jaskier,” he said, and then couldn’t say anything else.

“Oh, gods,” Jaskier whispered, shaking. He stood up and swayed, brushing off his hands. Geralt saw that they were creased with lines from the bark, and he took them in his own to rub the lines away. Jaskier took a deep breath and looked up at him with limpid blue eyes. He looked dazed, incandescent.

Geralt touched Jaskier’s cheek and then his red, bitten mouth. He smiled at Geralt and kissed him carefully.

“How do you feel now?”

“I...better. I feel calm.” Geralt tried a small smile and it didn’t feel too foreign on his face.

“That’s wonderful, Geralt. Now, will you help me clean up?” He gestured at his ass and Geralt’s cheeks flushed again. He was keenly aware of standing in the forest with his cock out as he found a clean cloth in his pack and cleaned them both off.

He tucked himself back into his breeches and buttoned them, watching as Jaskier rescued his clothing from the nearby bush and pulled them back on. Geralt hadn’t noticed before how the sky blue silk perfectly matched Jaskier’s eyes.

“Now, come here,” Jaskier said, coaxing him toward the bedroll. Geralt took a moment to light the fire and then joined Jaskier there on the ground. The sun had nearly set, and everything was hazy like a dream. Once again Geralt wondered if he was already asleep, but then Jaskier was pulling him down and kissing him, and it felt real enough.

“Is this alright?” Jaskier asked, leaning over him and hooking one leg up over his. He smoothed his fingers through Geralt’s hair, working gently through tangles, and Geralt hummed low in his throat.

“This is good,” Geralt replied, deciding that he didn’t like the idea of separating now that they were done, the way he was usually preferred it after sex. Jaskier was comforting, he was real. He was a friend.

Geralt took Jaskier by the neck and tugged him down for a kiss, and he invited Jaskier’s tongue to slide against his, lazy and lulling. The scent of chamomile was everywhere, on their hands and mouths, heady and soft.

“You don’t want me to go?” As he spoke Jaskier’s lips brushed against his, a light tickle that Geralt chased, though Jaskier pulled away. Geralt touched his mouth, the velvety softness so delicate on his fingertips.

“I want you to stay.”

Jaskier nodded, smiling, running his fingers over Geralt’s hair again. Geralt’s eyes slowly closed. The last thing he saw was Jaskier’s blue eyes watching his, perfectly serene.

“I’ll keep watch, Geralt. You’re safe.”

And Geralt slipped under, finally, wondering if he would dream. He hoped he wouldn’t. He didn’t need to.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments make my heart super happy! Thanks for reading!


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